


(jeremy)

by theredhoodie



Series: (snapshots) [4]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Child Abuse (mentioned), Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredhoodie/pseuds/theredhoodie
Summary: Seth and Richie steal a train and go to KFC.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OK! this was totally unplanned and completely thanks to tweets between myself, Sonya and Nu, so THANK YOU GIRLS. I hurt myself emotionally a little with this one. 
> 
> \--  
> Pre-Series, kid fic. Child abuse mentioned but not written out. A little cute but mostly angsty emo-ness.

They go to the bookstore first. It's cramped and cluttered, a local place that's family owned and friendly. Seth and Richie slip in and dodge around legs of shopping patrons. Seth lies when the shop worker asks where their parents are.

He rubs his nose on the back of his hand as he speaks. "Mom's looking at poetry," he lies flawlessly. His skin is tanned and dirty enough to hide the bruises from two nights ago, at least enough to not be noticed by a distracted worker.

"Okay," the young woman says, walking off to help someone heading toward the register.

Tucked in the back of the shop, the train set is worn and aged, missing parts, but still functional enough to drag magnetic cars down the tracks and through the station in the middle. Seth stands guard; thin, eight year old arms crossed as menacingly as he can while Richie shuffles along on his knees, dragging the green train around and pushing his oversized glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Adults come in and out of the store. Richie adds a new car to the train every time he crosses the turning wheel at the station. Soon, he can't even move it without all of the cars falling away. Some crash down and fall to the floor as he tries going up a hill. The unwanted clatter calls attention to them and the worker realizes that their mother still hasn't shown herself.

Luckily for them, she gets pulled to the side by an elderly gentleman with a long and complicated question about a certain book he's looking for, giving Seth enough time to get them out of there.

"Richie," Seth says, turning to his brother. "We gotta go."

"But I don't wanna," Richie whines.

Seth walks around the table and puts his hand on Richie's shoulder and shakes. "We gotta go _now_."

Richie and Seth are almost exactly eleven months apart, Richie younger though he is smarter than Seth and as tall as him already. He's still six—his seventh birthday is in two days—and yet he almost looks older than his older brother. However, no matter how smart he is, he's still six.

Richie huffs and gets to his feet with little stomps, clutching the green train in his hand. Seth reaches toward him to drag them both of out of there, but stops when he sees the train.

"Richie, you have to leave that here."

"No. I want it."

" _Richard_ ," Seth insists. "The train belongs here."

Richie gets that look in his eye that tells Seth he's about to throw a tantrum, so Seth gives in. He glances around for the cashier, sees that she's busy, grabs Richie's elbow and tugs him out of the store. Richie holds the train to his chest once they're outside and a few feet from the bookstore door.

It's the first thing he's ever stolen.

(To put the record straight, Seth has stolen a lot of things before now. Most of them for Richie.)

"If Dad sees that, he's gonna be pissed," Seth says to Richie, nervous but thankful to see, for once, his little brother looking pleased and happy with himself. It is rare in their household, where their dad always tells both boys how unwanted, stupid and useless they both are.

Richie frowns and then pushes his new glasses back up his nose.

"Just…hide it when we get home," Seth tells him, taking Richie's hand and walking them both across the street to the bright and friendly looking KFC on the corner of Main Street.

Together they push open the door and step inside. It smells delicious and the boys' stomachs rumble. They came here a lot, since their dad rarely had the patience to buy food for them.

Barely taller than the counter, Seth walks right up to the register. The man working recognizes him.

"Hey, kiddo," the man says. He's younger than Mr. Gecko, with a kind face and demeanor. "Two kid deals?"

Seth nods. "Yeah." He digs in his pockets for the change thrown at him to get him and his brother out of the house and lays it out flat on the counter. "And some corn and mashed potatoes."

The man counts the bills and change. It's almost exact. "You got it, kid." He sweeps the money toward him and then gives Seth a quarter and nickel.

Seth grabs Richie's shirtsleeve and drags him to the side to let the grownups behind them order. Richie's shoved the train into his shorts pocket to hide it.

"Dad's not here," Seth says. "He's drunk on the couch."

"I know," Richie says quietly. He then goes and walks away to sit at a table, his hair sticking up at all ends, his glasses too big for his face.

Seth frowns but stays at the counter, waiting for the food. The tray wobbles in his hands as he pulls it down and brings it to Richie. The green train is sitting on the table.

"Here," Seth says, putting Richie's folded up box in front of him and unpopping the folded corners. He then mixes the corn into the potatoes and opens the gravy next to it, setting them in the middle of the table. Taking the tray to the trash, he hops up and shoves it toward the top and then fills both their cups with soda.

His food is still warm when he sits back down and pries open his box.

"Can we get something else next time?" Richie asks, his face smothered with grease and pepper from the crispy chicken leg in his hand.

Seth shook his head, his mouth full. "This is the cheapest," he says, trying not to spit food everywhere.

They ate KFC _a lot_. It is a wonder they're not some of those overweight kids like those that littered their elementary school. Their dad didn't feed them enough otherwise to get that way.

"McDonalds," Richie says.

"It's too far to walk." Seth frowns into his food, letting Richie eat as much potatoes and corn and gravy as he can stomach before eating the rest.

Seth scoffs down the lukewarm potatoes/corn mix and Richie drives his train along the invisible tracks on the tabletop, speaking in a whisper as he narrates the train's journey:

"He teeters on the edge of the cliff, rocks crunched under his wheels. The journey'sbeen tumultuous," Seth doesn't even know what that _means_ , "and he's tired and lost _all_ his cargo! He's on the ride of his life. If he doesn't make it, he dies. If he makes it, his boss will be angry and toss him in the impacter at the junk name."

"He gotta name?" Seth asks around a mouth full of potato wedges and ketchup.

Richie glances up at Seth above his glasses. "Jeremy," he says, and then continues. "Just when he thinks he'll make it 'round the mountain…an avalanche! He has to stop but he slides on the tracks and the rocks knock him over the edge." Richie makes the appropriate screeching sounds, and small whispered scream as Jeremy falls from the side of the table into his lap.

"Is that it?" Seth asks. Richie could already spout a better story than he could. He wasn't jealous, just worried about what their dad would think, what would happen if he found out about the stolen train.

Richie shrugs. "He could come back as a zombie train."

Seth snickers. "And what would he eat? Trains don't have brains."

Richie thinks about it for a minute. "He would eat their coal and then their faces."

Seth tries to imagine Thomas the Tank Train eating Douglas's face and just shook his little head. "Jeremy could be alive again. He's just a toy."

"He has to go into the graveyard once we're home," Richie reminds Seth. Richie has a box hidden under the floorboards under his bed where he keeps the little things that Seth gets for him and now his own stolen toy would have to be added to the mix.

Their usual somber mood falls on the two young brothers and Seth starts cleaning up. Richie helps, putting everything in the trash bin. They wipe their hands on their shorts and shirts. It's not quite enough and Seth takes Richie into the bathroom to wipe down his face and clean their greasy hands.

Richie doesn't protest as Seth scrubs his cheeks and chin with a wet paper towel and they both have to stretch to reach the faucet and wash their hands.

Once they are as clean as they're gonna get, they walk out into the dimming evening. Richie clutches Jeremy in one hand and holds onto Seth's damp hand with the other.

"If we're quiet we can get in without waking Dad," Seth says as they run across the street.

"Okay," Richie nods as they head down the nearest street and towards their house. A short chain link fence goes around their yard, but they're both good at getting over it without making noise. Their bedroom window is open and Seth helps Richie climb in first. Then, Richie reaches out and helps Seth up. It's a production, both of them not overly strong, but Seth gets in without much noise.

Their room is small and bare, a mattress on a frame on one side and a mattress with a pile of blankets on top on the other. Seth tiptoes and glances through their doorway. Their dad is still asleep on the couch, the game playing on the TV. Seth quietly closes the door and sits cross-legged on his mattress. Richie is fishing under the bed for the loose board and the box. He pulls it out and carefully opens it.

"Into the graveyard, Jeremy," he says quietly, laying the train on its side so it won't roll around. Seth watches him close the lid and put it back under the floor. He wishes they didn't have to hide their few nice things, but at least he had seen his brother sort of happy for a little while.

It's a little before their bedtime, but neither of them want to wake the bear, so they pull off their shorts and socks and get under the covers. Richie folds his glasses and puts them on the windowsill before diving under his sheets.

"Hey Seth," he says after a minute.

"Yeah?"

"That was cool."

"What?"

"Stealing the train. It was cool."

"Yeah, Richie. It was cool."


End file.
